


When You're With Me, You Can Dream

by kookiesandsugawithmytae



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff (ig kinda at the end??), Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hints towards Minho being underweight (just one line though), Hurt/Comfort, Jisung is caring, M/M, Minho has a nightmare :(, Swearing (minimal), The other members are there but not really mentioned much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookiesandsugawithmytae/pseuds/kookiesandsugawithmytae
Summary: Minho can't sleep due to a nightmare, but he can always rely on Jisung to cheer him up.Just a short fanfic in which Jisung and Minho get together after Jisung helps him through a nightmare. Sorry about the ending; it's a bit rushed.





	When You're With Me, You Can Dream

It’s late, at nighttime, that the staff tells them to get to bed. The boys had finished filming for a show, and were all tired after their long day. They’re all sleeping on the floor together, and Minho makes a beeline for Jisung. He loves cuddling with him, and oftentimes, wishes for more. But he’s grateful for his friendship with Jisung, even though it sometimes hurts.

Jisung expects Minho to head straight to him, because he’s already lying down, blanket pulled up to this chin. There’s an empty spot besides him that’s saved for Minho, and there’s a warm feeling in the elder’s chest at the thought.

He makes himself comfortable- too comfortable- wrapping an arm around Jisung, smiling softly to himself when he doesn’t pull away. Instead, Jisung lifts himself up, laughing at something Hyunjin said, and Minho watches him quietly.

Jisung is beautiful, although Minho would never tell him that. He closes his eyes, the image of Jisung pouting at something Chan said imprinted into his mind as he falls asleep.

—  
_Minho feels the wind biting at his hands, nipping at his face. He’s freezing, the jacket around him doing nothing to combat the cold. That’s the least of his worries now, though. He’s standing atop an elevated platform. When he peers over the edge, he can’t see the ground below._

_He shuffles backwards, his back hitting a large glass wall. Upon surveying his surroundings, Minho realises there’s no way to go apart from forward. The glass walls encase the whole platform, except there’s a hole in the one ahead of him. He walks forward slowly, trying to ignore how close the clouds are, and how far away he is from the ground._

_Minho slowly makes his way through the hole, and as soon as he makes it through, everything disappears. The glass is gone, the platform is gone. He’s standing on top of a square, a square barely able to fit his feet. There’s a tightrope in front of him. It’s shaking slightly, and when Minho’s gaze follows down it, he notices that he can’t see it end._

_There’s suddenly a whispering in his ear, telling him to walk forward. Telling him to walk onto the tightrope. Telling him he’ll be safe at the other end._

_Minho feels bile rising up his throat._

_The square under his feet begin to crack, and in a moment of panic, Minho leaps forward. He lands onto the tightrope shakily, barely able to keep his balance. The square crumbles down into the abyss behind him._

_Minho pushes forward._

_Each step is excruciating. He keeps his eyes trained on his feet. He knows that the only reason he’s made it so far is because of his balance, which had become accustomed to him after years of dance. But he finds that he can’t feel his hands anymore, and a particularly strong gust of cold air knocks him off of his feet._

_There’s a split second where he’s falling, and then he manages to grab onto the tightrope with his right hand. But it’s too numb for him to actually have a strong grip on the rope. The weather has made him too weak to lift himself up._

_For the first time since he started, Minho looks up. He can see the end. He was so close. Only a few metres more, and Minho would have found himself safely on another platform._

_The voice tells him to keep going, and so he does._

_He starts moving forward, gripping on the rope with his right hand, swinging a bit, then using his left. His hands sting after a minute, and Minho feels something wet dripping down his cheeks. He releases a shaky breath._

_Then, he reaches up to grab the rope with his right hand, misses, and falls._

_It feels like he’s falling for hours, but it’s only 10 seconds. He sees the rope getting smaller and smaller, and Minho turns to look at the ground._

_All he can do is let out a silent scream as he hits the floor,_

_body aching with_

_a resounding_

_crack._

Minho’s eyes fly open. His forehead is sweating, and his hands are shaking. He briefly wonders whether he’s suddenly caught a fever. Feeling unsettled, he looks around the room to remind himself where he is. The members are all fast asleep, and Minho unwinds his arm from around Jisung’s waist. He sits up slowly, careful not to awake anyone.

The room is dark, and it takes a few minutes before he can make out the shapes of the members sleeping. The cameras have been switched off, and the staff are nowhere to be seen. Minho coughs softly, only just realising how difficult it is to breathe. For some reason, he can’t stop his hands from shaking. He assumes it’s due to a nightmare, but he isn’t quite sure what it was about.

He’s scared of heights, right? Maybe-

_the tightrope… he fell…_

Minho shoves the blanket off of himself. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this scared. He knows he’s safe now, that it was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.

But his body doesn’t listen, and Minho is acutely aware of how fast his heart is beating. He can hear the blood pumping in his veins, loudly, and wonders whether the others can too.

With weak legs, he takes himself to the bathroom to clear his head.

—

Minho doesn’t know how long he spends staring at his reflection. He’s not surprised to see that he looks like he hasn’t had a rest in a long while. It’s only 3am, and Minho knows he’s slept for 2 hours at most. They had finished filming late, and it was well past 1am when everyone fell asleep. He considers leaving the bathroom to try and get some more sleep, but he doubts he’ll get any. No one has noticed his absence, anyway.

Minho hasn’t managed to calm his nerves down. His hands are still shaking, even more than they were before, and his heart still beats as if he had just run a marathon.

"Shit," he curses quietly to himself, rubbing his eyes wearily, "why can’t I just fucking sleep?"  
Every time he closes his eyes, the tightrope appears, and Minho watches himself falling. So he stares at his reflection again, forcing himself to stay awake. His eyes burn, but he keeps them open. Sometime during the night, he locks himself in a stall, unable to stop sobs from escaping him, flinching as the sound resonates off of the walls. The time reads 4am.

"2 more hours… just 2 more hours." He whispers to himself softly. "2 more hours and I’ll head back out."

—

Jisung wakes up to cold.

Felix is sleeping next to him, and Jisung finds that somewhere in the night, his hand had intertwined with his best friend’s. He chuckles softly to himself, before pulling away and sitting up.

The first thing Jisung notices is that Minho is missing.

His spot is chilly, meaning he has been gone for a while now. Jisung frowns, confused. A look around the room lets him know that Minho hadn’t moved to sleep elsewhere.

Jisung stands up, stretching his aching legs. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, noting the time as 4:30am. It is still too early to be up, his vision is still slightly blurry, but his urge to use the bathroom pulls him out of his stupor. He clumsily leaves the room, pushing open the door to the men’s toilets.

He is surprised to see the lights already on.

He is even more surprised to hear muffled sobs coming from one of the stalls. As soon as he takes a step towards it, however, the sobs stop, as if the person crying is trying to pretend they’re not there. Jisung hesitates, thinking that whoever it is wants to be alone. Nonetheless, he continues.

"Hey," he cautiously asks, "are you ok?"

Silence.

Jisung almost laughs at himself for even trying.

"Go away." The reply is quiet, strained. It’s tired, raspy, _sad._

It’s Minho.

"Hyung-" Jisung stops himself, unable to continue. He’s confused, scared- even. Minho to him is someone he can always lean on. Someone perfect, who loves to flirt with everyone he sees, and roast them when he’s not doing so. Then… why does he sound so broken? "Please, hyung. What’s wrong?"

There’s silence again. But after what feels like a few minutes, Minho sighs.

"Go back to sleep, Jisung." He tells him softly. "Nothing is wrong." But his voice is quiet, and Jisung knows he’s lying.

"Ok, I’ll go back to sleep." Jisung mutters, worries he had overstepped his boundaries. "But first, can I please have a hug?" He hears Minho chuckle, but his friend sounds weary. Despite wanting to be alone, after a moment’s hesitation, Minho opens the door. He keeps his eyes trained to the floor, unwilling to look Jisung in the eye. Unwilling to let the boy he loves see him in such a state.

"Shit, hyung." Jisung whispers sadly, when he sees Minho’s face. His eyes are bloodshot, lips bleeding - presumably from biting on them excessively, a nervous habit Jisung had noticed Minho had picked up - cheeks sunken and hollow. There are tear stains trailing down his face. Jisung moves closer, thinks ‘fuck it’, and wraps his arms around Minho, forcing him into a bone-crushing hug. When his hyung doesn’t protest, he rubs a soothing hand up and down his back. He feels Minho sigh against his neck. Jisung isn’t sure whether he should try asking why Minho is upset again, but decides against it, opting to focus on cheering him up instead. Jisung rocks them back and forth for a few minutes, until Minho is suddenly scrambling away from him, as if he had been burnt.

"I _can’t_ ," he chokes out, voice caught on the lump in his throat, "I’m sorry Jisung but I think you should go." Jisung can only stare at him wide-eyed, wondering what he had done wrong. Hugging him had felt so right.

Jisung cautiously moves closer to Minho. He doesn’t look as shaken up as when he had found him, and although he looks extremely tired, Jisung realises that his hyung looks ethereal. Minho is handsome, and beautiful, Jisung had always known. But seeing him close-up does things to his heart that he doesn’t understand.

“Minho... I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“It was stupid, just a nightmare.” Minho frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly into an unconscious pout. Jisung is pretty sure his heart clenches.

“That’s not stupid.” He replies confidently, causing Minho to look up at him. “So what if it’s a nightmare? Everyone gets them now and then.” Minho remains silent. “You know the other night, after we had filmed that interview on ASC and went back to our rooms to sleep, I had a nightmare about being a failure. I dreamt that we were performing on stage and I forgot my lines, and everyone got pissed at me.” Minho opens his mouth to say something, but Jisung raises a hand to stop him. “When I woke up, I realised I was wrong. For thinking that everyone would hate me if I messed up lyrics. My mind was playing tricks on me.” He clenches his fists. “Listen, Hyung, whatever your nightmare was about, it wasn’t stupid. It’s valid. It’s a normal thing for the human mind to make up scenarios involving your deepest fears.”

Minho hums softly. He is no longer panicking. Jisung’s presence had calmed him down.

“You’re saying failure is your worst- or one of your worst- fears?” Jisung’s cheeks heat up. God damnit Minho for being so smart.

“Yeah,” he says back, slowly, as if Minho will laugh at him any second, “I get worried I’m a failure every day.” Minho makes a sound low in his throat, as if he can’t believe what Jisung had just said.

“You’re perfect, Han.” He mumbles quietly. “Besides being able to sing, produce, dance and rap... you’re also caring and there for everyone when they need it.” Jisung gapes. “You may not notice it, but you have a heart made out of gold. Even now,” he gestures to the two of them and then at the stall they’re inside, “you came in to see how I am. Not everyone is like that, Jisung.”

“It was nothing hyung-“ Jisung starts bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, this means a lot to me. Thank you.” Minho sounds so vulnerable, and Jisung finds himself enjoying their little talk, even though it’s not under the best circumstances. It’s… endearing, to see Minho like this. Open, honest, and not hiding behind a facade. Jisung nods in response, can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. Minho looks at him intensely, and Jisung feels heat rise to his cheeks. He prays he’s not blushing.

“Are you gonna come back to sleep?” Jisung breaks the silence that had settled over them.

“I don’t-“

“Come with me, hyung.” He says before he can stop himself, reaching forward to clasp Minho’s hands between his own.

“…ok.” Jisung stands up, pulling Minho with him. Said boy is light; almost too easy to pull up, and Jisung sets a mental reminder to ask him to eat more. He’s about to open the stall door when Minho tugs at his hand.

“I need to tell you something.” There’s a sense of urgency to his words, an underlying desperation as he speaks. “Please, I just have to say this now.”

Jisung nods, nervous for a reason unknown to him.

“ _Fuck_ , I- I like you Jisung. More than a friend.” Minho lets go of Jisung’s hand. “And I know it’s wrong, god I know. But I can’t help it and… and after our talk, I just had to tell you.” _I love you_ , Minho thinks.

Jisung hears nothing after _I like you Jisung_ , his mind coming to a blank. It’s as if the frustration in Minho’s voice is palpable.

“Hyung, I…”

“You don’t have to like me back, it’s ok.” Minho looks exhausted. “I just needed you to know.”

Jisung stares at him. He can see Minho’s pain, as if it’s written across his face, even though the older is trying so hard to hide it. And Jisung finds that he hates to see Minho like this. He only ever wants to see him smiling, laughing, so happy that he cries. Looking at Minho like this, Jisung’s heart aches. And Jisung has his answer.

“I think,” he takes a deep breath, “I think I like you too.” Minho stares at him wide-eyed, as if he never considered this happening.

“You don’t need to pretend,” he says back, laughing dryly, “I’d rather you be honest.”

“I am being honest, hyung!” Jisung fires back. “I find myself looking at you for too long. I love your smile, your laugh, your voice. You’re ethereal.” He moves to place a hand against Minho’s cheek. “When you flirt with me, my heart speeds up. Hell, when you’re just near me I find it hard to breathe. But I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know what that meant. I didn’t know why I would wake up in the morning wondering where you were, or find myself waiting for you to return from dance practice just so we could cuddle. I thought I was just attached but now-“ Jisung smiles softly at the shocked expression on Minho’s face “-now that you told me you like me, I can finally label this emotion. I don’t like you hyung. I love you.”

Minho lets out a choked sob.

“Shit did I say something wrong? I’m sorry I-“ Jisung is cut off as Minho surges forward to place his lips on his. The kiss is slow, sweet, and Jisung lifts his hands and interlocks them behind Minho’s neck. He kisses back hesitantly, pulling away when he runs out of air. Their eyes interlock, and Jisung looks down at the ground so fast, he almost suffers from whiplash.

Minho chuckles, and Jisung can imagine his hyung’s familiar smirk adorning his face. “We should head back now.” He says softly, as if they hadn’t just been kissing. Jisung wonders how he can be so carefree.

He interlocks his left hand with Minho’s right hand, then leads him back into the room where the members are all still fast asleep. They settle under their shared blanket quietly, hands still interlocked for nobody but themselves to know.

This time, Jisung turns to wrap an arm around Minho, whispering a soft “goodnight, baby” into Minho’s ear, kisses his cheek, and then promptly falls asleep. Minho holds onto Jisung’s hand that little bit tighter, wondering how he got so lucky.

The nightmare doesn’t return, and Minho gets the sleep he craves. He dreams of Jisung, of his bright smile and chubby cheeks. There’s a permanent smile on his face, at least for the night, and the next morning when Changbin wakes him up, Minho can feel his boyfriend sleeping soundly against him, face buried into his neck. The others don’t say anything as Minho turns around to face him, falling into a blissful sleep once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! You can probably tell it's my first ever fanfic on this account, even though I've had an account for almost 2 years. I've finally worked up the courage to post something on here.
> 
> Please note I write these in my free time and post when I think they're (relatively) ok so I don't have anyone editing these for me.
> 
> Comments are always welcome, and if you've made it this far please know you've made my day!
> 
> Thank you once again x


End file.
